


The Quarterback

by Hecate1412



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: AU, Angst, Brief mentions of suicide, Football, I think this counts as an AU, Jeremy not so much, M/M, Michael actually gets to be happy, Michael knows more people than just jeremy, The squip exists, Unrequited Love, ambivert Michael, but he doesn't hang out with them, most likely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate1412/pseuds/Hecate1412
Summary: Jeremy Might have abandoned Michael alone in a bathroom, but that wasn't the end of the world (despite what Michael believed). Other people are interested in Michael and now that he and Jeremy aren't attached at the hip, they believe it's time for them to make their move.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's so many things I should be doing right now and posting a new multi chapter fic is not one of them...Oh well.

 

Michael sat in the bathroom feeling absolutely numb. He didn’t know what to do anymore. His best friend, the love of his life, had just walked out on him. Jeremy had just walked out on him and called him a loser. Michael had been called a loser before, but never by the boy with the crystal blue eyes that hypnotized him on the spot. Not by the boy with the soft skin he unconsciously touched and passed it off as friendliness. Jeremy, for better or worse, was most of all Michael had. Sure he had other friends, but Jeremy…Jeremy was different. Michael dedicated so much time and love and energy to Jeremy and here he was…alone in a bathroom. '

He wasn’t good enough.

He knew what was happening. He learned from an online friend what a squip was and what it could do and what it would eventually do to Jeremy if he wasn’t careful. Michael wanted to help. That’s all Michael always wanted to do. He wanted to help Jeremy be happy when he wasn’t popular. He wanted to help him have confidence when it came to talking to Christine. He wanted to make him laugh when he was upset. A fat lot of good that did. Now Michael was alone and Jeremy had moved on and the music-loving teen had never felt more alone in his life.

The panic attack had come as soon as the door closed. The tears flowed harder than they had in a long time. He spiraled and he spiraled quickly. He wanted to die in that moment. He felt like he had nothing to live for, but after his well dried up and his body was too exhausted to panic anymore, Michael picked himself off the floor and shuffled out of the house and back to his car where he drove himself home very slowly and in a daze.  
  
He felt numb for the next couple of days. He didn’t actively avoid Jeremy, but seeing him smile in the hallways, or watching him walk by without giving him a single glance hurt. It hurt a lot. The result was Michael isolating himself. He had other people he could turn to, but he didn’t want to. He wasn’t sure he could. He didn’t know them as well and he’d sort of neglected their relationship in order to be with Jeremy. He was alone and isolated, and he sat in the hall during lunch with his headphones on, his hood up, and his laptop out so he could pretend he was focusing on something important.

This went on for a week before something changed.

“Michael Mell.” A shadow fell over him in the hallway. He looked up slowly; dully taking in the tall figure standing before him.

“Oh boy, a football player is talking to me. Wonder what torture you’re planning to do to me today?” The boy in question was Marcel Rodrigo. He was the star quarterback of the football team and an high-demand recruit. Michael hadn’t talked to him much outside of the occasional group project they had together, and there really was no reason for them ever to talk outside of class…or in general. “What do you want Marcel.”

“To talk. Can I sit?” Michael eyed him suspiciously. He debated whether this was some trick or not. Whether someone was waiting around the corner with a camera, watching as their fearless leader pulled the ultimate prank. Michael refused to fall prey to something like that again.

“You can stand and talk, can’t you?”

“I guess.” He looked a little nervous. It was weird. Michael had helped the newspaper staff before, taking pictures for the sports section. Marcel had always looked calm and confident from where Michael had been watching behind the lens, but here-- Here he looked a little nervous and Michael couldn’t figure out why.

“So what do you need?” he asked, “because if you’re here to tease me like your teammates then you better walk away now.”

“I’m sorry, what? Who messes with you?” He looked mad and it threw Michael for a loop.

“The running back? I think? Him and a few of the second string guys. They haven’t messed with me much lately. It was mostly freshman and sophomore year, but they dialed it down this year.”

“I know who you’re talking about. I’ll talk to him about it, make sure he leaves you alone.” Again, Michael was thrown for a loop.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m team captain? It’s my job to keep these guys in line. We’re a team—a successful team who’s a state contender—we have a lot of eyes on us. We don’t need the attention to be negative.”

“So it’s a publicity thing?” Go figure.

“I’ve noticed that you’re not hanging around Jeremy as much.” That struck a chord. Michael glared unnecessarily harsh.

“What’s it to you?” he snapped. Marcel didn’t flinch at all but smiled softly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I dunno. You two are always attached at the hip and suddenly you’re not and you…well you look visibly upset. You look upset all the time. It’s like your heart breaks every time you see him.”

“Again, what’s it to you?” Michael asked, not even surprised that his hurt was so obvious, but confused why Marcel, of all people, had noticed.

“I was just…uh. I wanted to know if you wanted some company during lunch. I know you probably wouldn’t be comfortable sitting at my usual table, but would it be okay if I sat out here with you?” At first, Michael was too shocked to respond. He stared, mouth slightly agape as he took in the question. After the shock came confusion and hesitancy. Eventually, he muttered out a soft “What?”

“Can I sit with you during lunch?” Marcel repeated. Michael, still confused and in shock, nodded his head yes. He wasn’t sure why he said yes. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was telling him Marcel wouldn’t show up anyway, so what was the harm in agreeing?

“Cool,” Marcel had a genuine smile on his face and Michael felt his heart skip a bit. He was not prepared for that. “I actually have a French tutoring session to get to today because we have a test coming up and I’m struggling a bit, so I’ll have to pass today.”

“Um…I’m fluent in French.” He had spoken without thinking and got a confused look from Marcel.

“Wait really?”

“Yeah. Aliya minored in French and Rosa’s second language was Filipino. They rotated languages while I was growing up so I know both of them pretty well. I mean, I guess I’m not fluent, but I’m good.”

“Dude! Maybe you can help me! I mean not today. Madame Freyja will murder me if I don’t show up to today’s session.”

“Ask her to assign me as your tutor. She’ll think it’s a wonderful idea, especially if you tell her I’m the one who suggested it.”

“Why would she—”

“I tutor for extra credit.”

“She doesn’t offer extra credit.”

“I guess I’m a special case then.” Marcel laughed like it was a joke, and Michael suddenly felt an odd lightness inside of him.

“Y-you have a nice laugh.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them and suddenly his entire face was red. He slammed his laptop closed, shoved it into his backpack, and launched himself to his feet. “I have to go. I promised Jessica I’d help with yearbook spreads.” Marcel was still laughing and Michael wanted to stay and listen to it because it just sounded…it sounded so— “I really gotta get going,” he stumbled away, but stopped when Marcel called out to him.

“So, see you here tomorrow?” He asked. Michael shouted a hasty “Yeah, sure thing.” Before sprinting down the hall and out of sight. He didn’t like how flushed he felt. He didn’t like how he wanted to hear Marcel laugh again. He hated the feeling in his gut telling him that this was all going to be some sick joke. He slowed to a walk when he reached the second level of the building. He was debating finding a new spot for lunch tomorrow just in case, but then he heard Jeremy over the soft him of the music in his headphones and he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to call out to him, but he knew Jeremy wouldn’t hear him. He knew he’d ignore him. He tried to drown out Jeremy’s voice as he walked, turning up his music and focusing on Marcel’s laugh.

Marcel…Michael really wasn’t sure what to think of him, but maybe he wasn’t messing with him. Maybe he was sincere. Maybe Michael needed to move on. He at least needed a distraction and while his motives for letting Marcel in might not be the best, Michael was going to do it anyway. He was stuck at this school for another year and a half with Jeremy. He would have to wake up and smell the roses eventually. His best friend replaced him. It hurt, but Michael was allowed to move on too, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monster Hunter and semi-forced participation.

“Why are you so good at this?” Marcel complained. Michael snickered but gave him a confident smile.

“I’m not good, you’re just really bad.” Which wasn’t particularly true. Marcel wasn’t horrible at the game, but Michael thought he was using the wrong weapon. “You should switch to dual blades. You’re more of a speed based fighter and that’s the fastest weapon in the game.”

“I—that sounds like a plan. Give me a minute to go make some.” Marcel focused on the DS in his hands while Michael returned his attention to his sandwich. He’d been eating lunch with Marcel for a few days now and had learned the jock also carries a 3ds around in his backpack which led to a very interesting conversation of what games they played and who was better. Marcel challenged him that moment to a Mario kart competition, which he “gracefully” lost (Michael knocked him off the map at least ten separate times with a red shell) and they eventually moved onto a different game; the different game being Monster Hunter.

Michael had gotten into Monster Hunter due to an online friend who wanted more people to play with. He’d convinced Michael to make the investment and he hasn’t looked back since. I mean who doesn’t love a game where the sole purpose of fighting these monsters is to protect the people and gather materials to forge better armor and weapons? And the monsters are so friggin cool, and the algorithms they followed in a fight are very hard to follow sometimes which made for some very intense and interesting fights.

It had been a bit of a surprise to learn that Marcel was into the game as well. Michael always had an image of jocks in his head and that image did not show them as playing video games. Well, it didn’t show them as playing video games he was interested in. Yet, here was Marcel and Marcel could actually play the game. Michael had tried to get Jeremy into the game once, but he’d never been any good at it and it was a shame…not that it mattered now.

“Alright, I’m all set.” Marcel announced a few minutes later. “I’ve no clue how to use these, but it’s time to figure out. Can we fight something simple?” Michael looked up at him, a devious glint in his eyes.

“Easy? Marcel, my buddy, that’s not how this works. You gotta throw yourself into the danger and just figure it out as you go!” With that in mind, Michael walked his character over to the mission assign and picked the hardest monster they could both take with their current status. “Get ready to suffer.”

“You’re a sadist.”

“I’m in it for the thrill.” Marcel laughed and Michael felt a slight blush hit his cheeks. “So, how’d the French test go?”

“I think I passed. Madame Freyja agreed to assign you as a tutor, although she also said you don’t need the extra credit.”

“I can put it on my resume for college applications. I tutored last year as well.”

“If you were already nearly fluent in French then why are you taking French?”

“Because I’m lazy, Marcel. I’m Lazy and already know two other languages aside from English and just don’t want to learn a fourth one. I’ll probably end up minoring in French because most schools require you to take a language to the third level and I’m lazy as all hell.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Very.” They focused back on the game for a little while and Michael laughed as Marcel was regularly run over as he ran in close to the monster in an attempt to attack.

“I see you struggling.”  
  
“Shut up.” Michael laughed freely and paused for a moment because that was the first time he’d actually laughed so freely in a while. He watched Marcel get plowed down by the monster again and looked up only to find himself staring straight in to the football players brown eyes.

“Uh…Marcel?"

“Y-you have a nice laugh. I wish you’d laugh more.” Michael already had his hood up, but he wished he had another way to hide because he wanted to hide even more right now.

“Uh—thank you?” Marcel laughed now, it was short and soft, but it was enough to make Michael’s stomach flip and he hated it.

“Why do you always have your hood up?” Marcel asked after Michael subconsciously pulled it further over his head.

“Because I like it. Do you have practice after school?”

“I always have practice after school. You always put it up as soon as you step out of the classroom.”

“Why do you care about my hood?”

“I—I don’t.”

“Liar.” He closed his DS disconnecting the game. He stood up. “Since you’re so curious though, I don’t like most people and I hate most crowds and I’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable around people as of late so I use it as a buffer. Maybe I’m hiding from people or hiding from my problems. I don’t fucking know, nor do I know why you care. Now, what are you doing after practice? I want to get a head start on this tutoring so you’re ready for the verbal section of your exam on Friday.”

“Um…I just, I don’t have anything and…I’m sorry if I upset you. I can come by your place after practice or you can come over to mine or we can meet at a coffee shop.” Michael debated his options. Both his parents were out of town on business so the house was empty and would likely be the least disruptive place for them to work.

“Nous Pouvons travail dans un café.”

“What?”

“Meet me at Shey’s after school. It’s the café on 5th. It’s not a popular place so it’s a good place to study.” He held out his phone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you so you have mine and you can tell me when you’re on your way over, okay?” As much as he’d have preferred to study at home, he didn’t really feel comfortable bringing the quarterback to his place when they were the only people there.

“Alright. I’m sorry about asking about the hood. I was just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not used to people actually talking to me so I got a little defensive and I’m still…there’s just stuff that happened recently that I’m still working through. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay, Michael.”

“Yeah, okay. I have to go work on a project, I’ll see you after your practice?”

“Probably around five thirty. And don’t worry. I’ll tell you if I’m running late. I’ll also practice working with these dual blades so next time we play I can actually accomplish something.”

“Aww, but it’s fun watching monsters whack you around like a volleyball.”

“Laugh while you can, Mell. We’re gonna spend some time finding a game you’re no good at so I can watch you suffer.”

“There isn’t a single game I’m bad at.”

“We’ll see.”

“Whatever.” Michael waved farewell and walked off towards the stairs. He did have a project to work on, but it wasn’t for a class. He beelined to the music room and locked himself in the drum practice chamber getting to work on the new song he was learning. There were usually people in the music room when he was there but for the most part, they ignored him. He’d made a deal with the music teacher last year so he’d be allowed to use the school’s drum during the day.

He was mid Jam session when the door opened up.

“MICHAEL!” He jumped at the sudden disruption and glared at the jerk who thought it was okay to mess up his flow. He relaxed a little when he realized who it was.

“Rudy, it’s been a while.”

“I thought you were ignoring me.”  
  
“I was just…busy.” That’s a lie. He’d been busy with Jeremy.

“More like obsessed, but I’ve noticed you’re a little less obsessed as you’ve been in the past.”

“Yeah, people have been pointing that out to me lately.” He instinctively pulled his hood up. It had fallen down while he was drumming, but now that Rudy was here he craved its protection. Rudy noticed the gestures but said nothing about it.  
  
“Yeah, well I’m lucky to have found you here before Mrs. Sleet did. She’s about to make you drum for the pep band.”

“I’m sorry what?” Michael was aware of what the pep band was. They played at sports events that weren’t football. “What happened to Tyler.”

“He transferred.”

“It’s the middle of the semester.”

“His dad moved down to the land of the ‘y’all's' for work, so we’re short a drum kit player.”

“If I agree to pep squad she’s going to make me play for band as well.”

“Of course, but your hands are tied Mell. If you say no she takes away your drumming privileges.” He groaned running a hand through his hair knocking his hood back down, but he didn’t shuffle to replace it.

“How long do you think I can ignore her?”

“Uh…” Rudy glanced over his shoulder and winced. “I’d say another thirty seconds.” He stepped back and over marched the music instructor. She was a fearful woman with a passion for what she did. Michael had taken a few music classes with her, which is how he ended up on her radar, and he knew about as well as everyone else that if Mrs. Sleet wanted you to do something, you weren’t going to be able to refuse.

“Mr. Mell!” She cheered.

“I’ll do it.” He announced clearly. The older woman paused for a second, surprised at how easy that was. “I’m not starting today though. I’m not even starting this week. I want to learn the music before you make me do anything with other people. So, I’ll pick up the sheet music after school and be ready to try something with people next Monday. Now, can I get back to drumming please?” Mrs. Sleet smiled and nodded.

“Of course.” She turned and walked away, Rudy, however, did not. He watched the instructor walk away then stared back at Michael.

“Holy shit dude. I did not see that coming.”

“What?”  
  
“I didn’t think you would agree so easily. I thought you would put up at least a bit of a fight. I mean, we both knew you’d eventually lose, but still.” Michael had originally thought joining band now was a bad idea for the same reason why he’d refused to audition the previous years. And he could get away with it before because they already had a drummer, but this was different. Now they needed a drummer and Michael needed a distraction. He already knew a number of people on band, although he didn’t know them well. He figured now wasn’t too late to try.

“Yeah well…this will probably be good for me. Bedside’s I need some experience working in a band. You know I’m trying to get into Berklee.”

“You’ll get into Berklee, Michael. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re basically a drumming genius. The school would be making the biggest mistake of their existence if they didn’t accept you.”

“You flatter me.”

“Anyway, the others are gonna be hella stoked to find out you’re joining the squad.” Michael laughed because despite it all, somewhere inside him he was excited to be part of this too.  
“Also I saw you with Marcel—”

“Get out!” He threw one of his drumsticks harmlessly it Rudy's direction as the other teen closed the door and sprinted off laughing. Michael rolled his eyes and got up to retrieve his stick. He returned to his seat and started drumming, feeling a bit more light and fluid than he did earlier, and he could hear it in his music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it. I would appreciate it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee and flee?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say i'd update every Saturday. It's still Saturday.

Shey’s was surprisingly empty after school. Michael knew most of their business came from local morning business workers and the occasional afternoon student like him, but it was unusually quiet. Michael actually recommended this place to a few people he thought would like it. They had an in-house library so people could read while they sipped their drink or ate their food. There was a stage in the corner and there was a drum kit, and Michael would occasionally show up here to work on his soft jazz and play for the patrons of the store. According to Mrs. Loreza, their business increased whenever he played at the shop. She’d post about it on the shop's social media and people would come in to listen to him play.

Michael wasn’t the only person to play at the shop, but he was the only one who would show up randomly. Most people had a scheduled date, but Michael’s family was friends with the owner so he got special privileges. It’s not like Mrs. Loreza had a problem with it. She loved listening to him play, claimed it gave her shop the perfect ambient vibe.

Today Michael wasn’t playing drums, at least not on the actual kit. As promised he’d swung by Mrs. Sleet’s office and picked up music he needed to learn for band. There were so many more songs than he was expecting, but luckily there were a few he already knew by heart. Of course, he'd have to learn how to play them a little different than how he'd originally learned them, but reading through the sheet music he knew it wouldn’t be too hard to adjust. The real problem were the songs he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure why he thought he’d be able to memorize all of these by Monday, but he’d accepted the challenge and he had to rise to it. For this reason, he now sat towards the back of the café at a table by himself, another pulled up close to house his drink, while he drummed softly on the wood in front of him as he worked on learning the songs.

The band instructor had sent recordings of the songs for Michael to work off of so come Monday it wouldn’t be like he was being thrown to the wolves. He appreciated the recordings and continued his practice at his back corner with his hood up and his headphones on. Musically, Michael was gifted. He always denied it when others brought it up, but it was fairly obvious. Of course, people also didn’t see the countless hours Michael poured into practicing his passion in the music room back home, but that wasn’t important. Drumming still came naturally to him, and all the work he put in really made him stand out. The practice was something Michael loved. He would zone in on it and lose all awareness of his surroundings, which is why when Marcel strolled in a few hours later Michael was none the wiser.

“Hey, Mr. Drummer.” Michael jumped when Marcel tapped his shoulder, unintentionally throwing his sticks across the room. There was a beat of silence before Michael groaned and dropped his face into his hands in embarrassment. Meanwhile, Marcel was laughing his ass off. He dropped his bag by the spare chair and went to fetch the displaced drum sticks. “That was literally the best thing I’ve seen all day.”

“Well, I’m glad you got a laugh out of it. I’m still waiting for my heart rate to slow down. You should know better than to scare people.”

“Michael, I called you name ten times. The woman behind the desk told me to just tap your shoulder because ‘once he’s in the zone, not even a fire is going to pull him out of it.’” He paused. “Okay, I would hope a fire would pull you out of it. We don’t need another student in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I heard. Jake’s back at school, but basically in a wheelchair, and Rich is stuck at the hospital being treated for severe burns. Were you at that party?”

“Nah, it was more of a track team and popular kids party.”

“ _You’re_ a popular kid.” Michael deadpanned, slipping his headphones around his neck, careful to keep his hood up.

“And _you’re_ a lot more popular than you think.”

“I’m really not. In case you missed this I am very much a… well, according to certain people, I’m a loser.” He hated how he choked out the works. He hated how he couldn’t meet Marcel’s eyes. He hated how aware he was of the football player all of the sudden. How much he wanted to hear his opinion. If he would agree with the statement.

“Which definition of loser or we talking about here?”

“W—what? How many definitions are there?”

“Did you know a synonym of loser is underdog? So don’t think of yourself as a loser persay, think of yourself as an underdog. I personally don’t think you’re a loser. I think you’ve actually got a lot going for you and you’re attractive so—”

“Are you always this blunt?”

“Does it bother you?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He shoved his drumsticks into the side pocket of his backpack, flinching slightly when he saw the familiar “riends” scrawled across the back. It was kind of faded from the few times he’d tried to wash it off, but the sharpie was too stubborn. He attempted to push out all the memories the word brought up and sat back up to face Marcel like nothing had happened.

“If I’m an underdog, you’re an anomaly.”

“A what?”

“You know? Something that doesn’t make sense?”

“I know what it means, but why am I an anomaly?”

“You’re the quarterback of the school. Our team is predicted to be state contenders. You, according to the countless articles I read over Jessica’s shoulder, are a five-star recruit. Why are you talking to me? I’m a semi anti-social music kid who has been bullied by your kind since I came out.”

“In middle school, I remember. Everyone knows about what happened between you and Brycen.”

“Yeah, so you can understand why I’m highly skeptical of your motives. It was a popular kid who shoved me in a shed and called me worthless while recording it and sending it out to the entire school. It was a popular kid who basically called me worthless in the bathroom at a party and left me there alone. It was also football players who dragged me out to the football field freshman year and taped me to the goal post and left me there till, by some miracle, Rudy came and cut me down. I guess he’d been staying late? I don’t know. But yeah. Popular kids and me do not have a very good relationship. Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

“That’s…fair. Who taped you to the goalpost?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Michael mumbled wishing he hadn’t brought it up.

“It does matter. Coach has a zero bully policy. The guy's pretty strict about that rule and has been since freshman year. We’re a very mixed race school, Michael, most of the guys on our team are only getting into uni on scholarship. I’m one of those people. Coach will punish people who mess with their chances. More importantly, he doesn’t want to coach absolute assholes, so yeah, there are repercussions for actions.”

“I appreciate it, but this was two years ago.”

“Michael. Give me names.” The teen was taken back by the force of the command. He shrunk a bit under the harshness of the gaze, but it was clear that the harshness wasn’t directed at Michael.

“Miles, Tesla, Rubert, and Lewis.” There were more than that, but those were the only ones Michael really remembered from that night.

“Figures. There’s a reason they’re not first string.”

“Are you going to tell coach?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have asked for the names if I wasn’t. If anything you’re going to at least get an apology.”

“I don’t want the attention.”

“I’ll make sure they don’t make it a big deal.” Michael stared at Marcel who pulled out his phone, probably to write down the names.

“Why are you doing this Marcel?” There was honestly zero reason why the quarterback of the football team was even giving him the time of day and yet here was Marcel, and Michael had never been so confused.

“Doing what?”

“Talking to me? Being nice? Giving me the time of day? Pretending like you care or are interested in me as a person? What do you want from me? Seriously, there’s gotta be an ulterior motive.”

“Oh,” he pocket his phone and Michael waited for the explanation because he figured this was where he would finally figure it out. Instead, Marcel looking him directly in the eyes with a soft smile that sent Michael’s heart spiraling and stated simply—“I like you, Michael.”

“Uh…” He didn’t want to read too much into that, but he already was. “You—like me?”

“Yeah. I have liked you for a while honestly, but I couldn’t really get close. I don’t know what happened between you and Jeremy, and I won’t pry since I get the feeling you don’t want to talk about it, but I saw an opportunity and I decided to go for it. I like you, Michael, and if you’ll let me I’d like the opportunity to get to know you.”

“Are you always this blunt?” Michael repeated because he didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t expecting something like this at all. He still had feelings for Jeremy, he was aware of that, but Jeremy didn’t want anything to do with him anymore and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get back into something like that again.

“Yes. You get used to it.”

“Okay.”

“Um, I’m sorry for springing that on you suddenly. We can just start as friends. Even if nothing comes out of this, I still want to get to know you.”

“So do you actually need French tutoring?” Michael teased because that’s all he could think to do right now.

“In case you’re forgetting you’re the one who offered to tutor me.”

“Right, of course. But what if you heard that I tutored French and made up needed to go to tutoring in order to coerce me into offering?”

“Well darn, you caught me.” He joked, and they both laughed. Michael was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Marcel. He always knew that he was a good guy, he was the talk of the school and he always heard people talk about how nice the dude was.

“I knew that was it.” He gave Marcel a quick one over, trying to organize his thoughts because there were a lot of them. “Alright,” he finally spoke,” I’m still hesitant, but I’ll give it a chance. You’re right, I don’t really want to talk about what happened between Jeremy and me, but I’m not exactly over it yet. There’s a lot of history between the two of us and I just—I need a little more time to sort through all my feeling. And I appreciate your feelings, but I know it wouldn’t be fair to you for me to try anything before I figure out the shit storm of emotions already wrecking me on the inside first. So for now, how about we just be friends and see where things go.”

“That sounds nice. Who knows. Maybe I’ll learn that I absolutely hate you.”

“Well, you stuck around for a this long so you'll probably be able to handle anything I throw at you.”

“Mhmm,” Marcel shifted through the sheet music that Michael still had spread out on the table. “I can’t read anyone of this. What’s it for?”

“The previous drum kit player transferred because his dad moved down south for work. Mrs. Sleet told me that I had to replace him. There’s really no saying no to her so I’m officially on band and pep squad.”

“Oh? So you’re gonna be forced to watch me play Friday nights?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“It is,” he hummed, propping his head up against his hand. “It means I get to show off.” Michael snorted.

“Ah, there’s the jock personality I know. You all love to show off.”

“Oh shut up.”

“So should we start on this French work were supposed to actually be working on?” Michael suggested, gathering up the sheet music. He went to replace it with his French book, but as he was fishing for the book in his backpack, he heard the bell at the front door ring. Instinctively he looked to see who had walked in and his blood ran cold.

Jeremy had just walked in with a girl…a senior girl maybe. The girl noticed Michael, or at least he noticed Marcel. Jeremy looked to where she had waved. He waved at Marcel, but Michael knew he was looking straight through him.

“Marcel!” Jeremy called out. “I didn’t know you came to this place. It’s a little hole in the wall that not a lot of people know about.” They walked over to the back table, and panic seized Michael’s chest. He’d seen Jeremy around, but not like this. Not where he was talking to someone who was here with Michael. He didn’t want to be here. He hurried to get his book bag closed and but his hands were shaking and he couldn’t breathe so he just grabbed it and hugged it to his chest.

“I have to go," he muttered between gasped, rushing away from the table and past Jeremy. The girl, Amelia, watched him run by, but Jeremy didn’t notice at all.

“Is he okay?” She asked.

“Who?” Jeremy asked.

“Michael,” Marcel answered grabbing his bag and staring at Jeremy. “He offered to tutor me in French. Did you not see him run right by you? He literally ran right in front of you.” Jeremy looked puzzled but shook his head no after a few moments. Marcel stared wondering what could have happened between Jeremy and Michael that left their relationship this…messed up. “I’m sorry, I gotta go find him. I’ll see you around Amelia.” He ran out of the shop hoping that Michael hadn’t gone very far. It took Marcel a few minutes to find his tutor. He’d checked his car first, but when that came up empty her tried to think of where someone like Michael would go if they had been upset in public. He figured it would be somewhere secluded so he ran around the back of the café and found Michael huddle against the wall by the back door.

“Michael?” the last thing Michael wanted was for Marcel to find him. Michael was used to Jeremy ignoring him, but something about this hit him hard.

“G-go away.”

“No.” Michael buried his head in his knees, wishing he wasn’t crying, wishing he was alone, wishing he wasn’t in love with his best friend, wishing his best friend was still his best friend.

“Marcel, please.” He sounded so pathetic. Michael hated it, but his voice wasn’t wanting to help him.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what happened between you and Jeremy, but I would be an ass to just leave you here alone. We don’t have to talk, but let me help you at least a little.”

“Because you like me?”

“Because you deserve to have someone who cares about you.” Marcel leaned up against the wall beside Michael but was careful not to touch him. “And you have people who care if you’ll let them.”

“Sounds unrealistic.”

“How about I prove how false that statement is by taking you to go buy a new backpack? Don’t think I haven’t seen how stiff you go whenever you see the words on the back of your bag.”

“I—thought I hid that well.”

“You’re more of an open book than you think, but most of us don’t want to call you out. We’re not sure what happened and we don’t want to make things worse.”

“Thank you.”

“So new backpack?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Michael said, whipping his eyes. Marcel stood first and Michael let him pull him to his feet. “You can drive me there, but I am not letting you buy me anything,” Marcel smirked.

“We’ll see.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Marcel dance, or is Michael just imagining it?

Michael spent his lunch period for the rest of the week in the music room. He failed to tell Marcel (who’d ended up buying him a new backpack. After Michael picked one out, Marcel snatched it, sprinting to the front of the store, and purchase it before Michael could stop him) and Michael assumed he’d go sit with his old group in the lunch room, but five minutes into the period he got a text asking where he was. Another five minutes and Marcel was standing in the music room getting an odd look from Rudy who’d offered to help Michael and make sure he had the songs right.

“Seriously, what is going on between the two of you?” Rudy asked quietly as Michael waved down the quarterback. “This isn’t normal. You’re from two different social parties, and parties don’t usually mix members.”

“He just wants to be friends, Rudy.”

“I think he wants to be more than friends and we both know it.”

“I don’t think I’m…I don’t think I can do a relationship like that just yet.”

“Well, there’s more than one way to get over an old love, Michael, and one just walked in the door.”

“I didn’t love—” he stopped talking because, while Michael and Rudy may not have hung out as much, the redhead was still incredibly observant and Michael had been somewhat obvious over the years.

“Michael and—”

“Rudy”  
  
“Hi, I’m—”

“Marcel Rodrigo, I know. Everyone knows. You’re like, the pride of the high and it’s no surprise why.”

“Hey, Marcel.” Michael greeted giving Rudy a look. “Sorry for not telling you about the shift. I figured you would just go back and sit with your usual group…whoever they may be.”

“I was going to until you told me you were practicing. I wanna hear you drum.”

“So do a lot of people, get in line. This boy is a secretive one.” Rudy informed jamming a thumb in Michael’s direction. “And this is a closed practice.”

“He can stay,” Oddly enough, while Michael didn’t necessarily like practicing in front of certain people, he felt comfortable with Marcel in the room. “Just this once.”

“Harsh. I thought we were started to make a connection, Michael, and you cut me off just like that," Marcel whined, holding a hand to his heart like he'd been shot.

“You’ll get used to it.” Michael saw Rudy mock gag out of the corner of his eyes and smirked.

“If you two are done flirting,” he pointed to the drum kit which had been moved out of the semi sound proof practice area and into the large band room. “We have the room to ourselves and roughly 45 minutes left to practice and if you actually want to have all ten of these songs known by Monday then you better get tapping.”

“Please stop.”  
  
“You love me.”

“Do I? Right now you’re more of a pain in the ass, to be honest. A drill Sargent who I want to slip hair dye into his shampoo and make it a ridiculous color.” Rudy gasped, a hand going up to his red-orange locks.

“Are you mocking my hair?”  
  
“Yes. Marcel,” The football player flinched obviously not having expected to be pulled into this conversations. “Don’t you agree that his hair is a ridiculous color.” He didn’t answer immediately, studying the hair on the other bandmates head before deciding.

“It’s very bright?”

“Ha! He doesn’t agree with you!” Rudy pumping the air, giving Michael a snarky look.

“He’s just too nice to tell you the truth, but we’ll work on that.” He gave the quarterback a sly smile before setting his lunch and fetching his sticks from his backpack. His attention immediately turned to the drum kit and a smile lit his face, unlike any smile he usually wore. “TIME TO GO HOME!” He yelled, striding over to the instrument. Since the room was soundproof to keep band or orchastra from obstructing other classes when they practiced during the day, Michael had no concerns about playing loudly. In fact, he was looking forward to this.

Before he got on the stool, he shed his hoodie and discarded it on a nearby chair. As much as Michael loved the warmth and comfort of his hoodie, he didn’t need it when he was drumming. To him, drumming was a freedom all on its own and he was most comfortable when he was behind any drum creating his own beats. He also worked up a sweat when he was drumming so he tended to overheat if he wore his hoodie. Underneath he had a loose fitting t-shirt from some concert he’d gone to with his cousins over the summer. It wasn’t very fitting, which was how Michael liked it, so he was confused when he heard a whistle.

He glanced at Rudy first who nodded his head in Marcel’s direction, and suddenly Michael felt incredibly nervous because the quarterback was looking at him—no, he was studying him, and there was a look in his eyes that was—that made Michael feel something weird. It wasn’t an uncomfortable weird, but it was…odd.

“Uh…is there a hole in my shirt or?”

“Dude, do you lift or something?” Marcel asked, “Because your arms are really—” he whistled again.

“Look who’s talking Mr. Five Star Recruit. And I’m nothing compared to you. I’ve been drumming since the beginning of middle school, I put in roughly two hours of practice per day minimum. My arms just got firm over the years. I’m not necessarily strong, but the drumming shaped them up I guess.”

“Yeah, I can tell. I mean I can tell now. You’re always wearing that hoodie, so no one would have ever guessed.”

“Michael’s actually pretty fit. You’d be surprised how much exercise one gets when they chase a boy around.” Michael kept a firm grip on his stick even though his body was itching to chuck it at the redhead’s face.

“Fuck off. How about we don’t talk about the guy who ditched me to become popular yeah? I’m still working through that, it’s been…hard. We’ve been friends since second grade and—” he shook his head. “I’m just going to start drumming.” And he did. He started warming up, just thumping out some tunes he knew by heart to get started, and tuning out anything the others might be saying. He focused on the beat and the rhythm and the music, using it to let out any of the negative anything that had been festering in his mind. The longer he played the better he felt, and the better he felt the more energetic his music sounded. Eventually, he stopped, a smile on his face because he rarely felt upset while drumming.

“Holy shit!” Marcel looked thoroughly impressed. “Michael, that was amazing!” He looked kind of giddy and Michael couldn’t help the blush that formed on his face from the praise. “I knew you played the drums, but I’d never actually seen you play.” For whatever reason, it was common knowledge that Michael played the drums. He didn’t hide his talent, but he didn’t boast about it either. It wasn’t till a video of him playing was leaked around school that people actually started to believe the rumors. Not that they actually cared. But still, it was common knowledge the Michael Mell was the music man of New Borough since drums were not the only instrument he played.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Rudy agreed.

“You’re complement means nothing, Rudy. You think half the shit I do is amazing.”

“I am your number one fan after all, so it’s no surprise.”

“You make it sound like we’re dating.”

“We aren’t?”

“You’re straight.” Rudy shrugged.  
“Guilty as charged. Besides, No one else would have a chance if I were both guys and girls.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re both crazy,” Marcel informed, “but it’s fun to watch, and you really are good at drumming, Michael.” Rudy waltzed over and slung an arm around Marcel’s shoulder. The taller teen didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he looked amused when Rudy wiggled his brow and glanced back to Michael.

“Mikey boy is trying to get into Berklee. Wants to study music theory and composition. He also plays ukulele and bass.”  
“I sorta play bass,” Michael corrected, rubbing his hand sheepishly. “I’m an impulsive buyer and saw a bass being sold at a yard sale and bought it. I’ve been teaching myself stuff via youtube.”

“Self-learned. What about drumming?”

“I had a teacher for that. I still see him once a week. And my family is from Hawaii which is actually where my love of drumming started. I started with a hand drum and eventually moved on to a uke and then found interest in the drum kit.”

“You’re from Hawaii.”

“My mom is, but I was born in New Jersey. We travel back to the islands during the summer to visit.” Michael explained. He was itching to start drumming again and glanced eagerly at Rudy. “Can we get back to practice?”

“What? Oh sure. Let’s start with the fight song since we play that way too much.” Michael nodded and found the music in his binder, looking over it a few times before setting it aside. Rudy (bless this boy) pulled out his trumpet to play along with Michael.

Much to both boys surprise, Marcel stayed around for the entire lunch period. Michael thought it might be a little awkward since Rudy and he were playing and he wasn’t, but turns out he was worried about nothing. Marcel hopped around the room, dancing horribly to the familiar tunes, which led the music stopping periodically from Michael basically falling out of his seat in laughter. His laughter turned to wheezing and his wheezing turned to tears, and it wasn't until Michael had calmed down and was laying flat on the floor staring up at the ceiling that he realized he hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. It had been a while since he had been so wrapped up in the moment that his mind didn't wander to the friend who’d left him behind.

Eventually, Rudy and Michael had given up on trying to practice and transitioned into playing popular songs just so they could get Marcel to continue dancing. When he wasn’t trying to make a fool of himself and get a laugh out of them, he was actually a pretty good dancer. It was fluid movements and was honestly kind of mesmerizing. Michael was staring and staring and staring—And Marcel noticed. He flashed him a flawless smile and Michael immediately dropped his head hiding the blush that rushed to his face (he couldn't tell if it was embarrassment from getting caught staring or if it was something else).

The warning bell sounded and the boys got ready to return to class. Rudy( surprise surprise) didn’t have to go anywhere because he had a music class next, so he waved farewell as Michael and Marcel left the room together.

“You know, I saw you staring,” Marcel teased, leaning in close enough so their shoulders were touching.

“Oh I was staring alright. It was because I’ve never seen someone dance so terribly before.” Marcel let out a bark of laughter, playfully shoving Michael away.

“Let’s see you do better.”

“Oh, I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I.”

“I could argue otherwise.” They reached an intersection in the hallway and paused. “I’m going this way.” Michael informed pointing down the hall.

“And I have math.” Which was in the opposite direction. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Only if I get to see you’re awful dancing.”

“I can arrange that.” Michael smiled at him and turned away, vaguely aware of the lingering look on his back, but he didn’t look back. He focused on the warm feeling blooming in his chest and the light blush on his cheek and the lame smile on his face and the actual happiness swarming inside of him—happiness he hadn’t felt I a while. He was aware of the feeling he was feeling and he knew he used to feel it when he looked at Jeremy. It scared him honestly, how quickly he’d come to like being around Marcel.

When Michael reached his classroom he paused. He shared a lit class with Jeremy, and while that feeling from lunch was still there it was quickly being squashed by something else. Dread? Sadness? He hated it. He hated how Jeremy could alter his mood so quickly and easily without even looking at him, without even saying a word. Michael missed Jeremy, and he didn’t want to lose his best friend of 12 years, but Jeremy didn’t want him around. Sure, some of that influence might be the squip, but Jeremy said it had been off on Halloween. Everything he’d said that night had been his words.

Michael went stiff when he saw Jeremy approach the classroom. We wanted to cry when he walked right by him without a second look, and he stood outside the door until the bell rang again. He was tired of this. He was tired of pining after someone who didn’t care. He was tired of letting Jeremy control him. He wanted it to stop and so he made a decision. He made a silent promise. He was going to get better. He was going to move on. Jeremy was not the only person in his life and he was aware of this. He’d neglected other relationships, but not anymore. Michael was going to be happy, and he was going to learn to move on, and he would maybe eventually forgive Jeremy, but he didn’t doubt for one moment that their friendship would ever go back to any semblance of normal if Jeremy ever did want to talk to him.

“Mr. Mell?” He snapped out of his daze and looked up. Mr. Low was staring at him through the open door. “The bell has rung, would you care to join us?”

“Ah, right. Sorry.” He mumbled ducking into the room and finding his desk in the back of the room. He tapped his pencil lightly on his desk the entire time, his mind drifting back to the lunch in the music room, a soft smile on his lips.

Yeah, one way or another, Michael was going to learn to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure how i feel about this chapter, but i hope you enjoy


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Band practice is upon us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the minimal amount of editing, so i'm sorry if some parts are really loose. Sorry it took so long to update. life's been a little hectic.

“Michael!” Michael let out a loud OUF as he was knocked to the ground by someone that really shouldn’t be able to knock him to the ground. Michael was six feet tall and roughly one-hundred and eighty pounds. The attacker was about half his size and two thirds his weight if not less.

“Farah, what the hell?” The shorter Afro-American smiled down at him, a big toothy smile on her face as she rolled off of him.   
“Sorry, it’s just been a while since we’ve actually talked outside of hellos in the hallway. And when the Rumor spread that you were joining band,” She squealed happily, “Man, I was so stoked! I tried to talk you into joining Freshman year and you just shot me down. You shot Rudy down too. You shot anyone who asked down and now look at you!” Michael groaned and Rudy laughed.

“Regretting your decision yet?”

“Shut up you strawberry.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” The weekend had come and gone and Monday had arrived. As promised, Michael joined the band up on the practice field to practice with actual people. He’d just lugged up a cart loaded with his drum kit (with the help of some other band members because lord have mercy that things were heavy and it was an uphill battle). Essentially that’s probably why Farah could knock him down because Michael was already halfway to the ground when they finally reached the field.

“You’re lucky you don’t actually have to march,” Farah teased as Michael struggled to his feet. “You might look fit, but you sure aren’t in shape.”

“Shut up. Drumming is exercise on its own.”

“U-huh.”

“And I work out. But you try lugging two hundred pounds of drums up a hill. Let’s see how you fare.”

“I still have to lug my own drums up a hill, Michael.”

“Yes, but you’re multi tenors are like…fifty five pounds max? They’re literally designed for marching. They have to be light enough for people to lug around in synchronized marching patterns.” Michael was glad he had left his hoodie in the music room with his bag. It was still pretty hot despite how late it was in the year (he blames global warming) and the sun was out and blazing down on them.

“They’re still heavy and I still do more work than you.”

“I learned ten songs in six days, Farah. Leave me alone. Let me drum. You can go march, but I’m going to stay with my baby in a solitary position. Michael had actually learned a little too late that the drums he’d be working with were not the traditional ones he was used to. He had to be on his feet, so while he usually played bass with a pedal, now he had to play every part with his hands. It would take a little adjusting, but he knew he’d be able to do it. Honestly, he was looking forward to it.

“Oh please, that’s normal. You’re not special Michael.”

“Yeah, but he is saving our ass.”

“Hey Ari,” Michael greeted. Ari was one of the most graceful girls Michael had ever meet. She was tall and slender and didn’t have the initial vibe of someone who played band (you know the stereotype, don’t deny it). She was the drum major so she was one of the three students who kept the tempo for the drum line. “Looking as beautiful as ever.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere with me.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to flatter. I’m stating the obvious.”

“Mhmm.” She smiled and hugged him. “Welcome to the geek squad. I’m sure you’re going to fit right in.”

“And there’s no need for me to ever feel embarrassed with you all considered I just got leveled by a munchkin in front of everyone.” The others laughed, and Michael relaxed a little, not even realizing he’d been so tense. “Just to clarify, why _exactly_ am I saving your ass?” Michael had only read through the sheet music for his parts, since that’s all he had, but he was only one instrument.

“The drums have a solo section and it’s not as strong without the bass drums in the pit. Since Tyler left, we needed a replacement asap, and since we couldn’t sacrifice any of our other drummers, and since they also wouldn’t have been able to learn something new so fast, we turned to you.” Ari explained.

“So it’s not a solo.”

“It’s kind of a solo,” Rudy hummed.  
  
“You’re joking.”

“Not really.”

“I’m leaving.” Rudy and Farah both grabbed his arms and dragged him further into the field. Michael didn’t put up much of a fight and let himself be dragged away. He’d been sucked into a vortex and there was no escaping now.

More people started to pool to the field, and while Michael knew some of them, a great number of them were still strangers. Still, they came up and greeted him, he returned their greetings with a friendly smile and an apology because there was no way he was remembering so many names.

When the practice actually began, Michael stood to the side to watch and listen. Well, he stood in front of the drums, playing in his mind as he listened to the more experienced marcher's play. Mrs. Sleet had told him to join in when he felt ready or comfortable and to not be worried about making mistakes. And so after they paused for a second time to correct something in the song, Michael decided he was ready to join in. Turns out joining in was a mistake because it threw everyone else off.   
He figured they just weren’t ready for it or expecting it because, when he first hit the bass drum with the mallet, every other instrument fizzled out as the deep beat resonated through the air. He paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed like he did something wrong, but Ari just whistled, so did Drew (one of the guys who played Xylophone) because—

“I never knew the drum could make a noise like that.”

“What do you mean? Did I read the music wrong? Am I not supposed to hit it that hard?”

“No you are,” she tucked some of her long black hair behind her ear and shared a glance with a few other members of the pit. “Tyler couldn’t ever get a sound that strong so it was just…surprising.” That baffled Michael. He’d known of Tyler, he wasn’t a very big kid, but it shouldn’t have been that hard to get a strong sound out of a bass.

“So should I play it differently?” Michael didn’t know what they wanted him to do and he didn’t want to overshadow the others in the group.

“Play how you think it ought to be played, Michael,” Mrs. Sleet told him when no one else could answer. “Everyone brings a little something of their own to the song. I want to see what you’re going to offer before I decide if we need to change anything. This is your first day, the others have been here much longer. Everyone should be able to act professionally.” There was a soft murmur of responses. “Alright let’s reset from the beginning. Since Michael feels ready to join us we are going to do a run through from the beginning. Even if you mess up, just keep going. I want to see how he keeps up.”

Michael heard a challenge in that last phrase, and despite his seemingly calm demeanor, Michael was never one to turn down a challenge. It might have been an unspoken challenge, but it was still more than enough. With a smirk on his lips and an eager look in his eyes, he turned back to his drums and got ready to perform. And boy did Michael perform.

He had memorized the music over the weekend. While it had taken a little adjusting since he wasn’t using his feet to play certain instruments now, he got the hang of it fast enough that he didn’t cause many problems. He played certain things by ear, but he was one of the primarily beat keepers, and he knew his part well enough. So he played. He played to the best of his abilities and by the time he finished he was panting but he had the biggest smile on his face.

“Geez, why did I wait so long to do this?” He practically yelled earning a laugh as someone played the “Another one bites the dust,” song on one off the brass instruments and he had a sneaking suspicion I was probably Rudy. He glanced to Mrs. Sleet who seemed impressed, although she was only showing it in her eyes. She had a frown on her face, almost like she was deep in thought.

“Good, but I know you can do better.”

“Is that a challenge?” Michael asked.

“Do I need to make it one?”

“With him, probably,” Ari commented, but she had a smile on her face and it was so obvious she was impressed by his abilities and happy that he had joined the squad. “He’s stubborn, but a challenge always seems to push him past his limits.”   
“What? Have you been watching me?”

“That’s called stalking, Michael, and I don’t do that.”

“So you say!” Someone called out, but Michael didn’t recognize the voice. Ari must have because she tossed a sharp glare in one direction and a soft echo of laughter filled the air.

“Shall we go from the top?” Mrs. Sleet asked? “This time, Michael, I will stop you if I want you to change things. We only have a week until the home game so we need to make sure you’re ready.” Michael nodded and waited until they were instructed to start, trying to play better than before, and listening when he was stopped and told to play something a certain way. It was a fun experience, and he was surprised by how welcoming everyone was.

Yeah, he definitely regretted waiting this long to join band.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are dumb

“I passed the French Test!” Marcel declared loudly waltzing into the music room. Michael had made it habit now to join Rudy there for lunch, and Ari and Farah joined them as well. Marcel came every other day choosing to sit with his teams a couple times a week as well. Today, however, Marcel had come to eat with them and he waltzed in the door doing some ridiculous victory dance as he waved a piece of paper over his head. “Michael guess what!”  
“You passed the French test.” He announced, glancing over as the tan teen found a seat beside him.

“Not only did I pass, I made an A.” Michael snatched the test results and scanned them. Marcel had done better on the speaking portion, no surprise. Marcel wasn’t bad at French. When he knew the vocab he could speak it easily, but he didn’t always remember the vocab.

“I’m taking all the credit for this grade.”

“You wish.”

“Hey, Marcel.”

“Hey, Ari. How’s Pat?”

“He’s on your team, shouldn’t you know?”

“He’s your brother.”

“Valid.” They shared a smile, and Rudy rolled his eyes. Farah still wasn’t used to Marcel and just stared at him for the first few minutes after his arrival because “Why is the quarterback sitting with us? We’re dorks, he’s popular.”

“He’s popular, but he’s also a dork,” Michael informed.

“He’s also crushing on our drummer,” Rudy added. Michael’s face went red as he threw part of his sandwich crust the Redheads way, but Marcel shrugged.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Oh my god. Please don’t,” Michael mumbled.

“You guys mind if I borrow him?” Marcel rose to his feet and was already pulling Michael up with him. He didn’t wait for permission before pulling the drummer over to one of the practice rooms. Once there, closed the blinds so the others wouldn’t see and made sure the door was shut.

“Well, aren’t you being cautious.”

“We go to school with Jenna Roland, Michael.”

“Okay, that’s a fair argument, but why the privacy?”

“Because I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends or make you feel like you’d be pressured into saying yes based on being around other people.”

“You’re about to ask me out.”

“I’m about to ask you out to dinner and a movie Saturday night,” Marcel said. “And you can say no. I know we’ve only been hanging out for a little over two weeks, but I like you…a lot. I mean--I guess these are premature feelings or--I dunno. And I understand that you are still working through some other stuff, so I don’t want to force you.” Michael fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. He wanted to pull his hood back up, but he refrained from doing so.

“You’re pretty nice for a football player.”

“Maybe all the football players you know are just assholes.”

“Yeah that’s probably it,” he paused. “Do you want an answer right now, or can I give you an answer later.”

“How late is later.”   
“I’ll let you know by the end of the day. How’s that?” Marcel smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan. Don’t over think it. I won’t be hurt if you say no.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for tutoring me. I hope you still will.”

“I mean. I fully intend to take all the credit for you passing level three so yes, I’ll still be tutoring you regardless.”

“Cool, um…I actually have to go. I told the guys I’d sit with them today, but I wanted to come ask.”

“Well don’t want to keep your jocks waiting.”

“They’re good guys, Michael.”

“You’re a good guy. Every other football player I’ve met is a jerk.”

“You’ve met maybe three of them.” Michael shrugged, and Marcel rolled his eyes, but they left the practice room together. Marcel waved farewell, and Michael returned to the group and they all watched him expectantly.

“What?”

“Michael you just walked into a soundproof room with the quarterback. The only thing we think you two did was make out.”

“Correction, they think you two made out,” Ari pointed to the others. “I think you were more civilized.”

“She thinks you had sex.”

“We were in there for three minutes!” Michael squeaked, unable to believe Ari, of all people, would even suggest that.

“Maybe you work quickly?”

“Well, we definitely didn’t do that.” He glared at all of them. “And since you three obviously must know everything that happens to me, then you should know he asked me out.”

“And you said Yes.” Rudy sounded hopeful, Michael shook his head.

“I said Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“What do you mean Maybe?” Farah was ready to go off, but Ari, thankfully, held her back.

“Why don’t we let him explain.”

“I just…I’m still working through some stuff. It’s only been a few weeks, but still.”

“My dude, you need to learn to move on. I know it’s hard.”

“It’s harder than hard, Rudy.”

“Dude, trust me. Say yes.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Michael, why don’t we walk to class?” Ari announced, rising to her feet. The bell was a few minutes out, but there was no shame in walking before the crowd took over the hallways. Ari was Michael’s height if not an inch shorter, but she carried herself like she was taller than everyone. It wasn’t a condescending way, but it was almost like she was like royalty. She carried respect. It was impressive, and Michael felt small beside her.

“You’re going to lecture me, aren’t you?” He realized as they took the longer route.

“What makes you think that?”

“It seems like something you would do.”

“What happened with Jeremy?” She asked. It was so sudden and blunt; Michael couldn’t even be surprised.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I see the way you look at him in class. You look like a kicked puppy.” Michael hadn’t realized it until earlier this week, but Ari was in his lit class. Well, no. He was aware she was there but had been ignoring her presence until she came over and plopped down next to him in class.

“We got into a fight.”

“It’s more than a fight. You two have fought before. We’ve all been going to school together since elementary school. When you two fought, everyone knew, but they never lasted. You two always made up. Now it’s three weeks later, give or take, and you’re not talking. It doesn’t even look like he can see you.”

“Because he can’t,” Michael admitted before realizing it didn’t make sense. H couldn’t exactly admit to there being a supercomputer in Jeremy’s head who was literally blocking Michael from his line of sight. Instead, he exhaled and said a quick. “It’s complicated.” He wasn’t sure how else to explain it, but clearly, it wasn’t enough for Ari.

“Uncomplicate it.”

“He just doesn’t want me around anymore, okay? He wants to be cool and chill and popular. In case you haven’t picked up on this, I’m none of those things. It’s not that I’m not cool or popular or whatever; I just don’t care. Jeremy cared. Jeremy was willing to do whatever he needed to do to become popular and apparently that included leaving me behind.” He pulled his hood over his head, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. “I confronted him about it. I wanted to know why he was ignoring me and he just—he blew me off. Called me a loser, told me to leave him alone, and left me on my own in foreign territory.”

“Where did this happen.”

“Jakes party.”

“You got invited?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I snuck in. Drunk kids don’t notice anything.” She smiled, knowing it was true, and Michael had no doubt she’d snuck into a party or two herself.

“So that’s why he’s ignoring you?”

“Yeah, that’s why he’s ignoring me.” They walked in silence for a while.

“Maybe this is a good thing?” Ari suggested.

“How is losing my best friend a good thing?”

“Because, Michael, you were obsessed. Honestly, did you ever do anything without Jeremy? Rudy says you’re trying to go to Berklee, but if Jeremy had asked you to go to school with him would you have?”

“No,” he came off as defensive, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure. If Jeremy had asked him to attend the same school would he have gone? Michael wasn’t entirely certain the answer was no, and Ari seemed to understand he’d reached that conclusion when he stopped walking. “I would have. Ari, I would have followed him. Even if I’d been accepted to Berklee, I probably would have dropped it all and followed him to whatever school he managed to get accepted to regardless of their music program.” He suddenly felt sick. When had he become that dependent? That subservient? When had he become willing to do anything to make Jeremy happy?

“Michael when’s the last time Jeremy dropped everything to help you?” He wouldn’t look at her.

“He doesn’t.”

“Why.”

“Because I never told him when anything was wrong. He already had enough problems with his mom and recovering from that, so I didn’t want to put any more problems on his plate.”

“But he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy?”

“If I’d asked him to he would have come.”   
“But the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him something was wrong says a lot.” Suddenly Ari’s arms were around his shoulders, and while he usually didn’t like being touched when he was in this weird state of limbo—somewhere between calm and panic—he welcomed it. He slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her back. “I’ve been in friendships like this Michael,” she spoke gently to him, and it calmed his nerves. “They’re not healthy. When you’re emotionally dependent on each other as severely as you two are, when one’s mood is off, when something is wrong with the other person, it affects your mental state. It’ll affect your entire day. When they’re not around or they leave your life, it devastates you.”

“That’s not…we don’t…”

“Michael, it’s okay.” One soft smile from her immediately dispelled all the panic that was started to accumulate. “Jeremy hurt you, and that’s not okay. Sometimes stuff happened between friends but the fact that he hasn’t tried to patch it up says something. The fact that when you tried to patch it up, he still blew you off says enough. Maybe this break up is for the best. Maybe you need to separate yourself from him. Learn to be your own person, learn to depend on other people, not just one person.”

“I loved him.”

“I know.”

“How could you—”

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Michael.”

“Then Jeremy is just oblivious.”

“Yes.”

“This shouldn’t be this hard.”

“Yes, it should.” She lowered his hood off his head. “It’s hard letting go of someone you love Michael. That will never be easy for anyone. You don’t want to hurt them, you want them to be happy, but sometimes. Sometimes you need to worry about yourself. Michael, what do you want?”

“I—” he took in a shaky breath. “I want to stop hiding. I want to be happy. I don’t want Jeremy to be able to affect me anymore. Ari, I see him and it’s like my heart stops. It’s like the world freezes. I hate it. He doesn’t want me around and he still has this effect on me. I want it to stop.” She hugged him again and he welcomed it. He hated to admit it, but he’d felt so weak these past few weeks. He hated this feeling more than anything. He felt helpless.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to go through this alone, but if you want to move on, it’s something you must choose for yourself. It won’t be easy, but Rudy, Farah, the entire band, even Marcel, we’re all here for you. It’s not just you by yourself anymore.”

“You give really nice hugs.” Ari snickered and pulled away. “You also give wonderful advice. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“And here I thought you were just going to tell me to say yes to Marcel’s request to take me out.”

“Oh, I think you should say yes. Michael, the kids less subtle than you are, and I know you’re not that oblivious.”

“I’m just—Jeremy.”

“Then take it slow. Explain to Marcel what’s happening. It’s not like he’s going to hate you for having loved someone else.”

“Yeah, that seems like a smart idea.” The bell rang overhead and instantly the halls started to fill. Michael hated crowds, but it was one of the prices of being a high school student. Ari and he wove through the halls till they reached their classroom, and sat together in the seats by the window.   



	7. Chapter 7

  
There was a lot running through Michael’s head when class began. He was thinking about everything Ari had said to him. When she pointed it, he could sort of see how their relationship might not have been so healthy, which might have been more Michael’s fault than Jeremy’s. Either way, it happened and Michael was still feeling the repercussions, but he was ready to try to move on. And some part of him felt happy he’d finally told someone. Ari was easy to talk to, and Michael was glad to have her around.

“Mr. Mell?” The teen snapped out of his head and looked up to the teacher. “Did you hear a thing I just said?”

“No sir, sorry what?”

“We’re pairing up for group projects. You’re presenting a book of your choice. You'll have to choose from a list of provided options, but you’re paired with Jeremy.” Michael froze and glanced across the room. Jeremy was staring straight at him and his expression was unreadable.

“No,” Michael said firmly. He was honestly surprised by how clear his voice was.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not working with him,” Michael declared confidently, eyes never leaving Jeremy. Jeremy looked surprised, and Michael waved. “Heyo, can you see me now? Not gonna ignore me now that you’re being forced to interact?”

“Ignore you?” Jeremy laughed, but Michael wasn’t sure if that was actually Jeremy. “Sorry that you’re so insignificant that you don’t pick up on my ‘worth my time’ radar.”

“’Worth my time radar?’ Was that the best comeback you could think of? Aren’t you supposed to be cool or something? I would have assumed you’d be able to come up with something stronger than ‘worth my time radar’.”

“You’re just jealous I don’t have the time of day for you.”

“Honestly, I’m not,” which was a half-truth.

“Mr. Low, I’m not working with Michael,” Jeremy declared. “Ari however,” he glanced over at the black haired teen and winked. “I would gladly take up your time.” Michael snorted when Ari gave him the harshest glared he’d seen from anyone other than himself.

“Mr. Low, if you don’t mind I would rather work this project with Michael.” There was an audible gasp from the crowd and Michael admittingly smiled when he saw the flush of embarrassment on Jeremy’s face.

“I’ll work with Ari,” Michael agreed. Mr. low mumbled something about teenagers and marked up his paper.

“Fine. Ari and Michael, you can work together. Shelby, you will work with Jeremy.” Michael snorted and Jeremy glared. There was a tint of electric blue in his eyes and he knew it was the squip. The hate had nothing to do with Ari turning him down, but had everything to do with him getting partnered with Shelby. Shelby was one of the more…odd girls at school. There were a lot of odd people at school, but she was just…she was like that girl from Zoey 101. The girl who made sculptures out of ear swabs and ear wax. She’s sweet and means the best, but she was just…odd. Michael had talked with her before and she really was a nice girl but knowing the squip, and knowing what he was trying to do to “improve Jeremy’s life,” this was probably about to be a major roadblock.

It was satisfying.

Mr. Low continued to call out pairs, meanwhile, Ari and Michael shared a smug look and gave each other a victory five. They work on their project for the remainder of the period, which was nice. Michael liked talking with Ari, and for once he had a partner who would help him with the work. Despite popular belief, Michael was a very good student. He was an A-B student and was rather studious. People who worked with him in group projects often picked up on this and he always somehow ended up doing their work too. Not with Ari though.

When the bell rang, Michael said his farewells to Ari and made his way to his next class. Unfortunately, he only made it halfway. While on route, someone grabbed him from behind and shoved him into the closest room, which just so happened to be the janitors closet. He wasn’t surprised when he turned around and found himself face to face with Jeremy—well, face to face with not Jeremy. There was that electric blue gleam in his eyes, making them more unnatural than they usually were, and Michael knew that he was facing the squip and not his once best friend.

“How pathetic,” he hissed in Jeremy’s voice. Michael tried to deny it, but those words coming from Jeremy’s mouth hurt. He wished they didn’t, but they did. “Don’t you care about Jeremy? Don’t you want him to be happy? And yet you undermine him. Make his journey to popularity more difficult.”

“Shut up,” Michael hissed. He didn’t want to be here, but Jeremy blocked the door and had him pinned against the back wall.

“Oh? You’re going to stand up for yourself now, huh? Did you find your voice? Please, you’re worthless. Did you ever wonder why Jeremy had no problem leaving you behind?” Michael didn’t answer, but he tried to stay strong; tried to keep his face void of emotions, but it was hard. There was venom in Jeremy’s eyes and hatred in his voice, and Michael knew it wasn’t actually Jeremy…but it was. It was his face and his voice and his everything. “It’s because you are quite literally nothing. You’re like a leech sucking away any possibilities for Jeremy to move up the social ladder. People see him hanging out with you and assume he’s a loser too.”

“I’m not a loser.”

“No, you’re not. You’re worse than a loser. You’re friendless and pointless and a waste of space. You think you might have friends, but let’s be real, Michael. Anyone who’s interested in being around you is obviously doing it out of pity.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No one cares about you.”

“Shut up.”

“Everything about you is terrible.”

“Stop!” He yelled, wishing he could tune him out. Wishing that he wasn’t being told this in Jeremy’s voice.

“Honestly, you probably make everyone who ever hangs out around you want to die. It’s pathetic, really, that you think you’re worth anything to anyone.” Michael threw his hands over his ears. He tried to tell himself that this wasn’t Jeremy, but the words he spoke kept ringing through his head. That he’s worthless and pathetic and no one actually cared and it hurt!

“Leave me alone,” he whimpered as he slid to the floor. He would not cry in front of this thing, but he was close.

“Not until you learn your lesson,” Michael wished he could faze through the wall and disappear. “Everything about you is terrible. Everything about you makes me want to die. You’re worthless. You’re worse than a loser. You’re pathetic.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not and you know it. You can ignore it Michael, but the voice in your head is there whispering what you already know is true.” Michael felt a gentle hand on his cheek encouraging him to look up, and Michael did. He looked up to see Jeremy’s eyes, no longer the electric blue from before, and an oddly comforting smile on his face. “The sooner you accept it the happier you’ll be.” Michael’s blood ran cold, his entire body felt cold. It was like he’d been frozen over in ice. Jeremy just smiled at him like nothing was wrong; like he wasn’t hacking away at Michael’s will to live—at his sanity.

“W-why are you doing this?” His voice barely came out as a whisper, but Jeremy managed to hear. He smiled happily like nothing was wrong, brushing a stray hair behind Michael’s ear.

“Because I want you to learn your place, Michael. It’s just the way of the world. The sooner you understand the happier you’ll be.” The way he spoke, it made sense. Michael would be happier if he accepted his hand in life; if he stopped trying to strive for things outside his status because he’d only be met with disappointment as he was denied again and again. “Everything about you is terrible, I want to hear you say it.” He shrunk into himself and hastily shook his head. “You’re worthless, Michael.”

“S-stop,” he pleaded, the tears having long since found their way to his eyes. Jeremy cupped his face and forced him to look up.

“Say it, Michael. You’ll feel better when you do.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re worthless.”

“I’m not.”

“Pathetic.”

“Shut up.”

“Everything about you is terrible.” His breath caught in his throat along with the words that were coming out. “If it weren’t true then I wouldn’t have left you behind. You were holding me back, Michael, and it was time for me to move on. Do you know why you were holding me back?” He stroked his thumb over Michael’s cheek, a sweet smile on his face despite the venom he was spewing.

“B-because I’m worthless." Michael choked the words out of his breath. Jeremy hummed softly and forced Michael to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“You left me behind because I’m worthless and pathetic. Because I’m terrible and not worth the time or energy. I’m a waste of space and you can do so much better!” He wanted to sound angry, but he knew he sounded broken. He could feel his heart breaking. He wondered if the pieces were even large enough to be put back together again.

“Do you believe that?”

“Y-yes.” He tried to ignore it. People had always been telling him he was a loser all his life. That he was pathetic and worthless, but he’d ignored it. He’d ignored it because who cared what other people thought of him, right? Except this wasn’t ‘other people,’ this was Jeremy.

“So you understand what effect someone of your status has on Jeremy, right? He’s trying to become popular and you, Michael are far from it. You’re only hurting him.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t really processing what was being said to him, he just wanted to be alone, so he said whatever he hoped would get Jeremy to leave faster. “I’m sorry for weighing you down. I’m sorry for causing you problems. I’m sorry that I’ve always been such a bother. I’m sorry I held you back.” He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but he refused to look up.

“It’s okay, Michael. At least you understand now. You’ll stay out of Jeremy’s way, right? Let him achieve the happiness that you couldn’t provide him.” Michael said nothing, just curled into himself on the floor. That seemed to be enough of a response because The Jeremy stopped talking and he heard the door click open and then closed. And Michael was alone. Michael was alone _again_. He was alone and worthless and pathetic and couldn’t even keep one friend.

The tears only poured harder when he was alone and there was nothing he could do to stop them, but he refused to make any noise. He was in the middle of a war ground called high school and the last thing he wanted was for someone to find him like this. He knew class was going to start. He knew if he didn’t show his parents would get a call. He knew this but he didn’t care. All he could think about was what Jeremy had said. How he was worthless and pathetic. He curled into himself more and didn’t move from his spot till he was sure no one would see him leave.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please Comment and Kudo if you liked it. Comments are actually the energy that preserves my life so if you could take a few moments to comment and save my life I would appreciate it
> 
> I'm going to try to update every Saturday since this is sorta like a Vent fic for me. I'm probably going to write it entirely in it's bulk.


End file.
